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There are a very select few people we meet in life that end up altering the trajectory of our life as a direct result of having met them. In most, if not all cases, we don’t know what they will end up meaning to us one day when we do. Well, the guy you see on the left here, Gene, was one of those select few people for me.

It was the year 2000, and he owned Photo 1, a photo lab and studio in Valdosta, GA. I went in one day to see if they could print a darker photo of an image I thought I’d overexposed, and one of his three kids, who all worked there for him, looked at it and told me that they could darken it but first, they were gonna show me how it was supposed to look. After Amanda handed me their printed version of the same negative back to me, I learned that who you had process and print your film in photography matters. I left that day with a new life goal: professional photography. It wasn’t long before Gene took notice of me, and took me under his wing. He was a wealth of knowledge to me. Not just about photography, but about life in general.

He and his cousin, Kenny, who you see with him here in this photo were so good to me. I learned to shoot weddings by tagging along with them and acting as a third shooter. Gene would give me rolls of film, and let me shoot fly-on-the-wall type candid shots – before that style of wedding photography got to be the new thing. I wasn’t paid anything but the free film, a free set of prints of what I’d shot, and the experience of being there with them to watch, learn, and shoot in a pressure-free environment. Back in the days of film, which we were still in at that point, that was huge, as a huge barrier to learning photography was the cost of film and processing (you have to shoot and practice a lot) and getting into a professional shooting environment when you’re not yet a professional photographer yourself. I shot this photo of Gene and Kenny at one of those weddings.

I was so saddened to hear that Kenny had – very unexpectedly – died of a heart attack, maybe six or seven years ago. He was too young to go at the time. And so was Gene. One of his daughters, Jennifer, messaged me late Friday afternoon to let me know her dad had passed earlier in the day. He was only 69. Learning of him being gone felt like a punch to the gut.

Gene was not just loved by me, but I think everybody that knew him. He was so interesting to talk with about anything, but like me, he was obsessed with photography. So, we always had that to talk about. His whole crew at Photo 1 all seemed to be a reflection of who Gene was as the owner of the business. It’s been 23 years, and I’m still connected to all of those who worked there here on Facebook, even those who worked there that were not his family, just employees of his. Me? I was just a customer – that they saw a lot of. Looking back I realize that Gene was the one that made that place and crew feel like family to each other. They made me feel as if I was part of that family. Gene loved them all and seemed to love me too.

I moved to Atlanta to pursue commercial photography in 2001, and have always tried to make certain that Gene, and a couple of others that have gone out of their way to help me in that pursuit, never felt as if I’d been a waste of their time. I didn’t let up on it until I went down the healthcare path I’m now on. This just happens to be an extension of what Gene took the time to teach all those years ago: Imaging. Medical Imaging. I’d think he’d approve of the effort.

Sadly, due to the intensity of the radiography program I’m in, and it being the middle of the summer semester, I won’t be able to make it down tomorrow to pay my respects to you and your family, Gene. Thank you for changing my life, Sir. Anybody that has looked at one of my photos and admired it since those days at Photo 1 has you to thank for it. I’m not done with photography yet, and you will live on in my images.

“Good isn’t good enough.” That was the mantra of the advertising school I graduated from twenty years ago this year: The Creative Circus. I took it to heart. While a student there I’d spend hour after hour lighting and relighting something in different ways, learning by doing so.  We would come to class with work we were truly proud of having created, only to have our instructors critique it pretty harshly, tell us how to make it better,  and send us off to reshoot it again by the time the class met again.

It wasn’t unusual for Circus students to pull all-nighters, because there was no way around doing so. We weren’t good enough to create much of what we were being asked to create with certainty and efficiency as we would be expected to do once working professionally in the real world. That was the whole point behind pushing us as they did.  I took that to the extreme, regularly staying awake for two days at a time straight, and one time, even for four days. Straight. I learned that I had pushed myself too far that time. I was doing this only with the aid of caffeine, lots of determination – and my youth. I was only in my mid-twenties at the time and obsessed with school and photography. I had energy and passion to spare.

Fast forward to 2017. Both of my parents both got very sick that year, and I lost much of my interest in photography during it all. I felt totally burnt out with it. I’d just gotten married and didn’t want photography to be my whole life anymore as it had been when I was single. I was tired of feeling as if all I knew to do in life, to earn a living, was take pretty photos for clients. I was in the depths of these feelings when I wrote a blog post titled Sea Change in the June of that year. If you care for a deeper explanation of those feelings, and what it can feel like to make a living as a freelance creative, check it out.

I didn’t say it at that post, but I knew at that point I was about to steer my life in a different direction by getting into healthcare. I wanted to get into the industry that had so frustrated me when my folks had gotten sick, to try and be something positive within it, rather than just complaining about it. I thought I was going to be a nurse, even though I have often felt like God put me on this planet to make images. It’s often said that if you wanna get a good laugh out of God just tell Him your plans for your life moving forward…

So, here I am writing this while in the depths of a great radiography program. A radiography program that I feel lucky to be part of. What am I doing? Learning to take more pretty-ish photos for a living – with radiation rather than visible light. I’ve got to see some really – really – cool stuff as a result. Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.

I’m in a class full of highly motivated academic overachievers, and, for the first time in my life, I often feel as if I really suck at making images. Radiography is insanely similar to photography in so many ways. On the physics side of things, we’ve been recently learning about some of the same concepts I was taught 20 years ago back at The Creative Circus, but we’re having to get disturbingly nerdy with it.

What I’ve been mentally wrestling with is that I’m now actively being taught to do the exact opposite of some of the things that make me a good portrait photographer:

Rather than reminding those I’m photographing to breathe while in front of my camera, I’m instead telling patients to hold their breath in front of the camera (or x-ray tube).

Rather than working to get those I’m photographing to loosen up in front of the camera so that will transfer into them looking more relaxed in the photo, I’m now having to tell patients to get into and hold still are some very uncomfortable positions. Sometimes even causing them to cry out in pain.

Rather than being able to work a little harder to pull the expression out of somebody I’m going for by shooting multiple shots to get them loosened up in front of the camera, only exposing them to the harmless pop of my strobes, I’m now having to try my best to get the needed image in just one shot without having to repeat it. You can’t just casually expose people multiple times when the light you’re using to create the image is radiation. When I miss a shot and have to repeat it, which all radiographers have to do occasionally, I feel a real sense of guilt.

Rather than being able to show somebody something in themselves they hadn’t seen before and realize they aren’t so bad in front of a camera after all, I’m now working to show something within the patient that truly can’t be seen with the naked eye, often revealing something that will be bad news for them. There’s nothing fun about doing a chest x-ray on a woman for something totally unrelated to breast cancer, and seeing in that x-ray, that she appears to have a cancerous mass in one of her breasts. I can’t tell the patients what I see in their images, nor can I tell others they were ever even a patient.

So, after having worked as a professional photographer, being a radiographer-in-training feels much like trying to be a professional photographer while wearing a straight jacket – with my mouth taped shut. It feels very unnatural to me. I sense that I will be good at it once I’ve overcome and become more comfortable with these differences. But that hasn’t happened yet, so I feel as if I’m struggling with it.

My class was recently given a copy of a radiography journal article titled “The Enemy of the Good.” It emphasized that radiographers should not let great be the enemy of good enough to be diagnostic. For us not to feel as if every x-ray we create needs to be textbook perfect, because they’re, by nature, just not going to be. I understand and agree with the points being made in the article, but, at the same time. Well. Consider how I started this post. “Good isn’t good enough.” That’s what I once had drilled into my head while in photography school, when now I’m being told the exact opposite, in an industry where I feel far more responsibility to get it right and to do so as quickly and efficiently as possible.

As a result of all this radiographic rumination – or scatter –  that I’ve had bouncing around in my head, I’ve realized, in the past month or so, that my interest in photography has come back and come back strong. After having cared little about taking photos, and the craft of photography for the past six years or so, I’m finding myself wanting to shoot again. To go seek out people to photograph. I can only attribute this to my looking to balance the way radiography has been making me feel versus photography how being a portrait photographer makes me feel.

I feel as if I suck as a radiographer-in-training, yet I feel so confident as a photographer, and I’m, having to learn how to mentally deal with the extreme contrast between those two feelings. Everybody that’s great at something sucked at it at some point though for some period of time: Ansel Adams, Irving Penn, J.S. Bach, Eddie Van Halen, and countless seasoned radiographers out there who once were in the same place I’m in now.

I owe it to my patients, current and future, to continue to hang onto that “Good Isn’t Good Enough” mindset, while still learning to be okay and comfortable with “The Enemy Of The Good” mindset because I often will have no choice but for the good enough mentality to suffice as a radiographer.

Finding a comfortable balance between all of the above is the biggest challenge I currently face. I will overcome it, but the only way I know how to is through more and more experience. I’ve gotta just embrace the suck as I’m gaining that experience.

Writing all this has been an effort to clear my mind of all the thoughts I’ve mentioned above. And this portrait of me, which is a self-portrait, is from another project I’ve started regarding my creative photographic mind crashing together with the more analytic radiographic mind I’m having to develop. I’ve yet to share that project, but one day I will.

This is Michael, and he is one of the radiographers at the clinical site I’ve been at for the past three weeks. He stood out to me, enough to ask my clinical instructor, and then him, to let me do a portrait of him, not just because of his stellar smile, but because of his desire to teach. On my third day at my new site, he seemed to take me under his wing, telling me after going on one portable x-ray run with him, “You come with me today.” He’s from Nigeria originally, so put a thick African accent on that as you read it.

Michael proceeded to teach me something of value after each patient we x-rayed that day. He took the time to ask me radiography registry-style questions about the x-rays we’d made of each patient before moving on to the next. It was intimidating. But, he had a way of doing it in a way that didn’t make me feel talked down to, or belittled, for not having all the right answers to his very impromptu pop quizzes. I took notes that day regarding what I learned after coming back from each portable run with him. It was clear to me that he had a wealth of knowledge to share. I later learned why: He graduated from radiography school in 2003 and immediately went to work for Atlanta Medical Center, which had its own radiography program at the time. Up until recently, AMC was one of two Level 1 trauma centers in Atlanta. So, that, a Level 1 trauma center, is all he has ever known as an X-Ray Tech for the past 20 years. Translation: He’s seen a whole lot of – unfortunate – stuff as a radiographer in that time and has earned all the knowledge he has.

So, I randomly saw him standing in the radiography control room this past Friday with that smile radiating from his face and knew I wanted to do a portrait of him. This is it. He clearly accepted my offer, and,  as a result, during those few moments I spent capturing this. Well, I forget how uncomfortable I feel as a radiographer (in training) these days versus how comfortable I feel as a photographer. He has 20+ years of experience in radiography, and it shows. I’ve got 20+ years of experience as a photographer, and that seemed to show too.

Thank you for briefly bringing me back to a profession I’ve had a hard time letting go of, Michael. And thanks for trusting me to do this portrait of you, as it feels as if it is as much a portrait of me as it is of you.

-Keith

As a commercial photographer, I would regularly remind those I was photographing to – breathe. I also have various tricks to keep people from looking overly posed while still being somewhat – posed. I also would shoot a lot of exposures of them, aiming to capture the little small differences in their expression. The little differences that most wouldn’t notice unless I pointed them out to them, but make the difference in capturing them looking at ease or not. I know and understand lighting which doesn’t hurt either. This has led to me being able to see countless faces light up over me having been able to capture flattering shots of them, when just a few minutes prior, they had been telling me they are very uncomfortable in front of the camera. That they take horrible photos. Seeing their faces light up like this, and feel good about themselves, in my opinion, is one of the most rewarding parts of being a portrait photographer.

So, fast forward to this past week. It was my first week of class in radiography school and my first day of clinical rotations at a local hospital. For the most part, I knew nothing. But I couldn’t help but immediately notice all the similarities between what we were doing during that first day of clinicals and lab. The similarities between radiography and photography, studio photography, in particular, were glaring. Yet, the differences I saw were just as stark:

Rather than reminding the subject to breathe due to them often subconsciously holding their breath in front of a camera – radiographers tell patients to briefly hold their breath during each exposure to cut down on their movement.

Rather than trying to loosen up the subject to capture them looking more at ease, radiographers put the patients in specific positions and tell them to be comparatively rigid.

The X-Ray Tube being on a rail system hanging from the ceiling reminded me of something called a studio stand in commercial photography, which is like a tripod on steroids. A studio stand rolls on the floor though but is also somewhat slow, restrictive, and cumbersome to use. But also totally worth using to get a good crisp image, especially when using heavier cameras for studio work.

Radiography seems to be much like shooting architecture in that you need to be hyper-aware of the plane of the image sensor. Being certain it’s not unintentionally skewed to the left, right, forward, or backward in relation to the structure you’re photographing. If it is, it will throw off the lines and or proportions.

With professional photography – portrait photography in particular – you have to be willing to shoot a lot of exposures. You may change up expressions, lens focal lengths, lighting, outfits, backgrounds, etc. Whereas in radiography the goal is to capture the needed views using as few exposures as possible so as to minimize the amount of radiation you expose the patients with.

The lighting. Oh my. Thank you, Lord, for dimly lit environments. I am highly sensitive to bright light – and lighting in general. I detest overhead lighting to the point I often wear hats and caps to shield my eyes from overhead light sources. I can’t stand sickly and unnatural color casts from artificial light sources. Luckily, photography studios are often dimly lit with the only light coming from highly modified sources to make it more pleasing to the eye. It’s a photographer’s job to find or create nice lighting after all. I generally prefer and find dimly lit environments more relaxing than brighter ones. Well, it seems most environments that radiographers work in are dimly lit. Even the main office, or headquarters, for the radiographers at the hospital was dimly lit, even though there was no real reason it needed to be regarding imaging that I’m aware of. Other than radiographers possibly favoring dimly lit environments, just as I do.

Greetings, My Fellow Bats!

This past week taught me that there is a lot I can enjoy about the job and profession, but there was also stuff that made me wonder how long it will be before I feel as if I’ve had my fill of doing the same basic shot, or “views,” as they’re called in radiography, day after day. Following a strict formula, with zero creativity involved. I’ve already found myself wanting to know more about what I’m seeing in images. As in, what is it that the radiologist is looking for to make an accurate diagnosis? What is it in the image that could reveal the reason behind the patient being there? As far as I know, this is outside the scope of practice for radiographers. It’s not going to be my job to interpret what’s seen in images I create as a radiographer, but to instead simply methodically capture the best images possible for the radiologist to make a diagnosis, in a somewhat hurried fashion, which leads to another concern:

My desire to understand and connect with people is probably what has driven me as a portrait photographer more than anything else. You have to want to develop a connection and rapport with those you’re photographing. Often putting the camera down and just talking with who you’re photographing and listening to what they have to say. Whereas it seems with radiography, X-Rays at least, it’s all about first asking,  “Can you please confirm your name and date of birth for me, Sir?” Then check their armband and the orders you have in hand to see if the names all match. Then proceeding to keep things friendly and professional but also comparatively superficial compared to portrait photography. All in the interest of getting through with one patient in order to get onto the next. While there is good reason for much of this, it still somewhat feels like tagging a cow’s ear with a number tag and then moving on to the next to do the same.

I feel as if being a radiographer is going to be everything I try not to be as a portrait photographer in the ways I’ve described above, while also being very similar. To the point, it’s feeling somewhat surreal to me. Especially considering that when I decided to put commercial photography on the back burner to pursue a second career in healthcare, I was feeling tired of feeling as if all I knew to do in life, professionally, was create nice images for my client. On-demand and under stress. Yet now, I’m going back to school to learn how to take more nice images, with radiation and/or magnets, rather than light (not light you can see at least). Also, on-demand and under stress.

Speaking of light. Now – while in school – maybe I can still not let my talents go to waste by approaching the security departments at both the school and hospital. Why?  To show them how to simply – yet exponentially – improve the quality of the photographs they’re currently creating for student/staff ID’s. They leave much to be desired as both places are underexposing them by about a stop-and-a-half or so, with bad lighting, putting the subject too close to the background (which casts a nasty shadow on it), not filling the frame, and/or not centering the subject. Having not one, but two ID’s created this past week with the same issues, created by two different organizations’ security offices makes me twitch. What is this world we’re living in coming to, y’all?

Having the ID badge I’ve shown in the photo above handed to me and reading “imaging student,” no matter how bad an image it is, made me feel as if I were in some sort of time warp. It is the second time in my life I’ve been an “imaging student.” I’ve often told people that I feel it’s a sin to waste a God-given talent you know you have. I’ve tried to see to it that I haven’t regarding the innate ability I’ve always seemed to have in photography. But at times I’ve felt as if maybe I was letting a known talent go to waste by putting commercial photography on the back burner by going down the path for nursing as I have. It feels like God has slammed the door in my face on nursing too many times now. Particularly after finding out that I did make the cut for my nursing program of choice for this fall, but couldn’t move forward with it due to the program having to be put on hiatus due to a lack of qualified instructors to teach it.

Instead, I feel God has opened the door to radiography for me, and by doing so, has steered me right back to using my attention to detail, and ability to put people at ease, to create medical images that can help heal them. Much of it is going to come very naturally to me I believe, while some of it is going to be a struggle I feel. One way or another, it’s up to me to walk through the door God has opened for me. To make the most of that open door for the good of my future patients, their loved ones, my marriage, and myself.

I had heard numerous times in the past that vinyl sounded better than compact discs but I never believed it, nor could I understand how that could be. In my experience records always had their audible snaps, crackles, and pops whereas compact discs had a clarity, a crispness to their sound, and due to that alone, would always reign supreme in my opinion.

That all changed this past year when my Sweet Bride gave me the Audio-Technica AT-LPW40WN as a wedding anniversary present. It is a turntable of good enough quality for me to have experienced what I had heard most all my life from the vinyl snobs of the world. Vinyl, or records, really could sound better than compact discs, or at least as good, depending on taste.

After getting the turntable setup my wife, Julia, and I listened carefully to the multiple pressings I have of “Brother’s In Arms” by Dire Straits. Two pressings on compact disc, two on vinyl, with one of the two on vinyl being considered as the best sounding copy of the album that can be bought: Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s Original Master Recording pressing. For Julia (whose hearing is better than mine) both of the vinyl copies clearly beat out the copies of it I own on compact disc. Her general thought was that the records sounded “smoother.” On vinyl the music sounded smoother to me as well, whereas, on compact disc, it sounded crisper.

So what do the words “smoother” and “crisper” mean when it comes to sound? Try to imagine sound visually as I am about to describe: The vinyl sounded like a smooth-edged sound wave, whereas the compact disc sounded like a set of stairs you’d walk up with each step’s rise being only an eighth or sixteenth of an inch above the step just before it; all of those tiny steps creating the crisp nature to the sound which includes an amazing amount of detail. The smooth straight line of the vinyl gently raising and falling didn’t sound as clean and detailed, but it was more pleasing to the ear.

As a photographer, I can’t help but also make the comparison of two very different styles of lighting in well-lit photos of the same subject. The first represents the compact disc with small-undiffused light sources that create very intricate lighting on the subject; the highlights and shadows becoming as much a part of the photo as the subject itself. Whereas the vinyl version of it is lit with larger light sources that are heavily diffused; creating buttery smooth transitions from highlight to shadow. The subject is the absolute hero in the shot, and the beautifully diffuse light no longer being somewhat of a distraction from the subject, instead forcing the viewer to focus more on how beautiful the subject is.

This additional comparison of two different photography lighting styles in terms of records versus compact disc is important because the most important thing when listening to music is – the music. The detail that can be heard in compact discs can serve as a distraction from the bigger picture. It can dilute the immersive therapeutic nature of music by bringing too much attention to the details. Similar to looking at the brush strokes of a painting while standing two inches from it versus stepping back a few feet and looking at the whole painting.

Have I become a total vinyl fan-boy based on all of the above? Absolutely not. I’ve been buying and collecting compact discs since around 1986, own well over a thousand of them, and still prefer them to records in many ways. Here are a few reasons why: Compact discs are far more convenient – and affordable – than records are these days. One can’t grab a few records to listen to in their vehicle on a road trip as they can compact disc. One can’t casually drop a record on the turntable as they can a compact disc in a compact disc player and listen to it. Also, as long as you take care of compact discs they will play as well after listening to them 500 times as they did when brand new, whereas records start to develop the snap crackles and pops unless they are meticulously handled.

Yes listening to and taking care of vinyl is a whole different level of tedious than what is required for compact discs. Not only are compact discs much more affordable than records these days, but being able to listen to compact discs and get a respectable level of sound quality can be had by simply buying yourself a used CD or DVD player at your local Goodwill store for ten bucks or so to hook to a stereo receiver and speakers of your choice. To get even close to that level of sound quality with vinyl you will have to spend $300+ on a turntable.

Then there is this giant rabbit hole one can find themselves in that can include, but certainly isn’t limited to, upgrading their phono preamps, phono cartridges, styli, etc. Yes, a similar hole can be found to bask in when it comes to compact disc, but I don’t believe that hole is near as wide, making it easier to fall into, nor is it as deep. This makes listeners less likely to fall into it, and the fallen to climb themselves out of it with greater ease and less shame.

With all of the above taken into consideration, we can conclude why vinyl has such a rabid following: It forces those that truly listen to it – to truly love it. Vinyl forces these gluttons for punishment to love it through sitting and actively listening to it, but only after having to handle it so carefully, store it correctly, and quite possibly spend more than they thought they ever might on gear to upgrade and change up the sound they experience while listening to it.

So, which is better; records or compact discs? That is up to the listener’s lifestyle, the depth of their love for music, and, due to the previously mentioned rabbit holes, the depth of their pockets. The one thing I believe we all can collectively agree on though: album artwork. Being over three times the size of a compact disc, records will make you want to buy an album you already own on compact discs just for the album artwork. Don’t ask me how I know.

Note: I originally wrote this for an English class assignment that required me to compare two things of my choosing. I approached the assignment as if I were writing an article for a magazine or online blog geared towards those that are new to hifi/audio world. I shot an image to support the article just as you might see in a magazine or blog post just like this. -Keith

Behind The Mask 1 of 2 :: The other day while working the seafood counter I found myself helping Anne, who you see here and is one of our regular customers. She’s hard to miss due to the very distinct mask she wears while shopping with her dog’s face printed on it. I assumed she was just another person that couldn’t get enough of their dog and thought little more of it. That all changed the other night when I heard more of their story though:

Turns out Angus was a “rescue” in every sense of the word. As in, on July 2nd, 2016 Anne saw somebody throwing him in a dumpster from a distance.

She assumed he was dead but was still rightly repulsed over – whoever it was – just throwing away their dead dog like that. So, she went to get him out of the dumpster to give him a more proper resting place. Once there, she found that he was alive still. She got him out of there and has since nursed him back to being the devilishly handsome-looking beast you see here on her phone.

I could tell he was everything to her, just as she has been to him. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be photographing customers at work, even when they know I’m doing it as Anne did here, but I just couldn’t help but ask her if she’d mind when I heard their story so I could share it with others. I told her that I had worked as a commercial photographer most of my adult life and that I had previously often photographed random strangers I’d meet, and when I did, I’d ask them what one piece of advice they had for the viewers of their photo.

In this case, rather than asking Anne for her one bit of advice, I asked her what she felt Angus’s one bit of advice for us all would be. Almost immediately Anne said:

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

What a fitting bit of advice for a bulldog or pit bull – the black sheep of dog breeds – to want us all to know don’t you think? Especially since they often are so sweet-natured as Anne told me Angus is.

So what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? “Behind The Mask 1 of 2.” I will get into the significance of my interaction with Anne and how that title relates to it in tomorrow’s post, “Behind The Mask 2 of 2.” So, be on the lookout for that if you care to hear more…

Behind The Mask 2 of 2 :: Back in August of this year, I had one of my former Creative Circus photography instructors, Kathy Wolfe, comment on one of my posts that they missed seeing the street portraits I’d often do of random strangers, and then being able to read the stories I’d post regarding my interaction with these people.

I think a lot of Kathy both as a photographer and a person, and realized she was right. I had lost my desire to try and help people understand those that were different than them better, through my photography and writing. This was due to me feeling as if an entire swath of people out there had decided it would be cool to label people that didn’t see things as they do as – whatever – when they knew little about those they were assigning such vile labels to.

Furthermore, due to me now working in a grocery store, I could see and feel how the whole mask-wearing thing due to the pandemic was doing us little to no good regarding the transmission of the virus, while also slowly sucking the humanity out of us. There is much more I can say regarding this due to my experiences at the grocery store, but I won’t.

So, within a day or so I decided to go out and start a new series of street portraits just for Kathy titled “Behind The Mask.” I planed to photograph random strangers with and without their masks on and ask them how the pandemic had personally impacted them the most. The idea was for me to try and convey that all these people we see behind the mask these days are still people that may be coping with any number of things emotionally that we can’t as readily pick up on due to half of their face being covered.

To give all of this some context, I should add that prior to this point it had been – rare – to have somebody I approached on the street and take a genuine interest in not wanting me to photograph them and share a little of their story. Me doing so often seemed to have made their day, which would in turn make mine.

Keeping that in mind, consider how it felt to me to have approached around 13 people that day for the new series I was going to break out of my self-imposed reclusive shell with, only to have them all tell me that they were not interested. I could see a concern and even fear in their eyes. Those that were wearing anything that indicated who they worked for were certainly not interested due to the possibility of it coming back on them in a negative way.

That day it became very clear to me that it wasn’t just me that had changed and lost my desire to help others understand those that were different than them better. But that society had changed and had lost their desire to be understood and heard. All thanks to “cancel culture.” That’s how it felt to me at least.

That day the only portrait I captured of a “person” was of Lady Liberty due to the miniature Statue of Liberty that can be found in downtown Atlanta, compliments of The Boy Scouts of America. I couldn’t help but consider that The Statue of Liberty is supposed to represent – liberty – or freedom. Cancel culture, along with the mask and vaccine mandates we’ve all experienced recently have stood in direct opposition to what The Statue of Liberty is supposed to represent though, haven’t they?

This brings me back to why my interaction with Anne the other day, and why the story I told of her and her dog Angus was significant to me: She was the first complete stranger I had photographed and shared the story of since May 16th, 2020 which just happened to be the very start of the pandemic here in America. I’ve pretty much kept to myself since then, not due to fear of the virus, but how society was making me feel.

I wasn’t looking to photograph Anne, or anybody, that night while at work. But I suddenly found myself connecting with the customer in front of me due to us both having a soft spot for dogs. The story of how she had rescued Angus was too good not to share. It wasn’t what was behind the mask that drew me to dig deeper and learn more, but what was printed – on – her mask. Her dog. While talking with Anne I couldn’t help but think about my previously mentioned instructor, Kathy, as I believe she is equally as compassionate a person as Anne had come across as to me, particularly when it comes to dogs. So, I asked Anne if it was okay to do these portraits of her and share her and Angus’ story to honor Kathy’s request of me back in August. These photos and the story behind them are for everybody that may get something out of them but are dedicated to Kathy in particular.

In closing I’ll add why I didn’t do a portrait of Anne without her mask on, as I believe she would have been fine with me doing: I didn’t because I felt her mask was a great example of the need for us all to actively look for the commonalities we have amongst each other these days, even though those in front of us may be wearing a physical, or emotional, mask. Or, more simply put, to not judge a book by its cover as Anne told me Angus would advise us all to do.

It was Anne’s mask that allowed for me to ultimately learn about the compassionate soul that was behind the mask in front of me. The moral of this whole story is that sometimes what you see with your heart is of far more value than what you can see with your eyes. That we should all keep in mind that there is far more to the people in front of us than what’s on their cover, and to do our best to look behind their mask with our hearts when our eyes aren’t able to.

My late Great Aunt Susie sent me the pictured card and newspaper clipping along with “a little spending dollars” on May 29th, 2002. At that point in life I had recently taken a leap of faith and moved to Atlanta to attend advertising and photography school at The Creative Circus. It was a sincere effort on my part to learn to be the best photographer I could be as I have always believed that it is a sin to waste a God-given talent you know you have.

Fast forward fourteen years to the year 2016: I was showing select images from my Southern Living series at Anne O Art Gallery here in Atlanta for Atlanta Celebrates Photography that October. The artist in residence there at the time was Billy Newman. To me, he was a true artist in every sense of the word when it came to photography, as at that point he was doing wonderfully unique and abstract shots of water in its solid form as ice and then presenting the finished images as large prints that he was printing himself. He also struck me as a true Christian in every sense of the word. He just had that Christ-like joyful light and charisma to him. Like me, he too had recently gotten married to his wife, Katie, and he just seemed to be in the perfect place in life doing exactly what he needed to be doing. At that point, I had no memory of the newspaper clipping my Great Aunt Susie had sent me, though.

Fast forward another few years to around 2019 or so. I was going through a lot of old boxes and came across the card and clipping. I recognized the face and name on the newspaper clipping she’d sent me this time. I immediately wanted to reach out to both Billy and Anne at Anne O Art with a picture of the clipping and card. The memory of me having taken some shots of Billy at work at the gallery one day stopped me from doing so right then though. I wanted to find and get one of the shots I remembered taking of him years prior processed to include with the email as I felt Billy may appreciate it. Due to being as scatter-brained as I am, and having pretty much wanted to keep to myself these past few years, I never did.

Fast forward again to this past Saturday: I learned that, sadly, Billy had passed on December 2nd from ALS after having had it for about a year. It totally caught me off guard and immediately brought my mind back to the card and clipping my Great Aunt had sent me close to twenty years ago now, and the photos I’d taken of Billy five years ago. I immediately was struck with a profound feeling of sadness and guilt that I’d missed the opportunity to possibly put a smile on his face and in his heart by sharing the same story and photos I’m sharing now with him. I set out to locate the card, clipping, and photos I’d captured of him yesterday and these are them.

After locating and reading the clipping again yesterday, what Billy says about him fulling his calling in life, not by reshaping himself, but by using his God-given talents in photography and writing. That hit me pretty hard and left me unable to get it out of my mind while at work last night putting out produce at Publix.

Here is where I’m going to circle back to my thought that I believe wasting a God-given talent you know you have is a sin: We all have innate talents within us. All of us. Some of us are lucky enough to have discovered them, and some aren’t. Billy and I were both lucky enough to have been the former rather than the latter. I’ve shown ability in photography ever since I was a little boy, and have had more and more people seem to appreciate my writing these past ten years or so, telling me I should be writing for magazines and writing books.

I wholeheartedly pursued a career in photography up until the year 2017 when I experienced a major sea change in thought. I had gotten married the previous year and both my parents had gotten very sick that year. Up until getting married and having to pretty much forget about my business to look at for my parents, photography was my whole life. So much of my self-identity and self-worth were wrapped up in photography. To the point, I realized it wasn’t healthy. I felt as if it was all I knew how to do. I didn’t want to feel as if I needed to put it in front of my marriage for photos that likely wouldn’t even matter to clients that had paid me to shoot them in a few years. Additionally, the frustration I felt towards the healthcare industry during that period left me feeling as if I needed to not just fuss and complain about it, but instead, do what I could to be a positive force within it for future patients of mine by becoming a nurse, just as the nurses involved in my parents care were to me that year.

So, I put photography on the back-burner for the most part to go back to school in my 40’s to become a nurse. Doing so has taken its toll on me emotionally as I’ve often asked myself if I’m doing the right thing in God’s eyes by not continuing to do something I felt He had put me here to do.

Such thoughts have weighed on me heavily these past few years. To the point that I often don’t even want to think about photography when I’m not occasionally shooting and processing jobs for clients as I do. When I do, I’m often reminded of how naturally photography comes to me, and am forced to emotionally deal with the decisions I’ve made to “reshape” my life by becoming a nurse.

Additionally, I have a ton of images I’ve shot over the years, some of which that I know ought to be great and worth sharing, that I’ve yet to process and share. The shot of Billy at work I’m sharing here would be one of them. I have a nagging sense of guilt and anxiety regarding all this work I’ve shot, yet haven’t bothered to process and share with others. Particular the work that includes people in it, like this shot of Billy, because I feel I owe it to them. I feel guilty that I’ve taken for granted that I’m able to create images easily enough that I don’t care to even bother with processing them when I know so many others out there, others that may not have my or Billy’s ability, would have loved to shot themselves and have to share as their own. Whereas with me, so much of it is just sitting on a hard drive and hasn’t seen the light of day since that split second I captured the image.

I realize that much of what I’m sharing is a bit of a downer to any of you that are reading this, and that’s intentional on my part. Because learning that Billy was stricken by such a horrific and sad condition like ALS, and just passed from it, was a real slap in the face to me. I have all this work I’ve shot that I feel a sense of responsibility to get out and shared with others, particularly the images with others in them, yet I’m just letting it sit there. I’ve been letting it sit there when I could suddenly have my ability to do so taken from me due to no fault of my own. Just as Billy had happen to him.

Needless to say, I’m feeling like a pretty selfish photographer right about now, and am feeling as if I need to be asking for forgiveness for letting a God-given talent I know I have go to waste in recent years. I feel as if I need to ask for forgiveness for having not gotten these photos processed and the story of my Great Aunt’s card to Billy when he was still here so he could have experienced whatever amount of joy they may have brought him.

Billy, please forgive me for not making the most of my God-given talents by not getting these images to you in a more timely manner. I sincerely hope that me sharing so much about how reading your words have given me a kick in the pants, and me making much of this tribute to you more about me than you, will also do the same for others that may need the same. Because life is too short to be complacent when none of us are guaranteed our health and the next day. I pray that God will be looking out for your family in the coming days and years ahead as they adapt to living life without your creative spirit and light in their lives.

Edit: I forgot to include a link to Billy’s website in all of the above. Do check it out as his work is beautiful. Viewing it feels like a glimpse into another world: www.billynewmanphotography.com

Today I’m working on a batch of corporate portraits I shot for a law firm this past week, and this is one of me standing in for a lighting test prior to the start of the shoot. I never did think I’d need to wear a mask and latex gloves for a photoshoot, outside of shooting in a hospital setting where they’re usually required anyway, but here we are. The client didn’t ask me to wear either of them, I just chose to as a general courtesy to those I was photographing.

Notice that even though the mask is covering my mouth, you can still see that I’m smiling due to my eyes. I call this “smiling with your eyes,” which I often tell clients is important to convey a sense of genuine emotion and friendliness to the viewers of their portrait. You want to be able to see that they’re smiling through their eyes without even being able to see their smile.

Oddly, I felt a bit uneasy myself during the shoot due to the attorneys not being able to see my expression, or that I was smiling, as easily, as I was interacting with them. I say this because I often will pull various expressions out of those I’m photographing through how I interact with them. Things I say to them, and sometimes just how I look at them. I would imagine that, occasionally, this could come across as me being unfriendly when I’m really just refusing to let them give me some half-hearted effort due to preconceived notions that they don’t photograph well, or because they’re uncomfortable in front of a camera. So me smiling as I interact with them like this helps convey that I’m not being a jerk.

I also felt a bit uneasy due to me having a “bad scalp day.” Yeah. Take note of the red patch of skin on my forehead due to the uncurable psoriasis issue I’ve had for a few years now. There’s nothing like introducing yourself to somebody in the middle of a global pandemic and trying to put them at ease in front of your camera, with a rash-like patch on your forehead that looks as if it could be contagious, that isn’t.

It was a good shoot though. I got multiple good shots of all those I photographed and managed to do so without any of them thinking I was a jerk.

I think. I hope.

One of the attorneys even came back for a second batch without her jacket on, after she’d previously told me that she did not at all like being photographed. She told me she had fun with the first batch I did of her, so, I took that as a compliment. Apparently, I was doing something right, mask on, or not.

Hopefully, like her, the rest of them could see that I was smiling through my eyes, much like you see in this shot, and that I just wanted to do my job well by capturing them well.

All this being said, please go out and do your best to smile with your eyes – and smile with your heart – at a world that doesn’t seem interested in smiling back at any of us this year, y’all.